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by revengeandotherdrugs



Series: Looking For Normality [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Billy is an engineer, Domestic Fluff, F1 AU, M/M, Marigold The Service Dog, Quiche, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, ptsd mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9314021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revengeandotherdrugs/pseuds/revengeandotherdrugs
Summary: Billy has two and a half weeks between the end of winter testing and when he has to head down to Australia to set up the cars for the first race of the season.This is what he comes home to.(Falls between chapters 4 and 5 of 'Take It From Me')





	

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like a break from the angst and manpain of 'Take It From Me' was in order. Plus I love these two and I really wanted to write them in the characterization from this au. Also my wonderful girlfriend/fiancee/partner/thing came and helped me out when I had my wisdom teeth out last week and inspired a plethora of domestic fluffy things so this is for you babe.
> 
> This work is part of an existing series that you don't really need to have read in order to make sense of this but since this piece actually deals a lot with the context of the action in TIFM it would probably be helpful... 
> 
> Enjoy the fluffy domestic husbands x

Billy returned from Spain to an empty apartment. He set down his duffel on the cabinet by the door and toed off his shoes on the mat. 

Marigold, pleased to be back on familiar turf, gave his knee a gentle headbut before trotting into the kitchen and pawing at her food-bowl. 

Billy stood in the entryway for a moment taking deep breaths. He never realized how hard breathing became, how tight the pressure in his chest got until suddenly it disappeared. The pictures on the wall of the hallway, the old tile in the kitchen, the worn grey suede of the giant sofa just visible around the corner of the living room - everything the way he had left it.This little corner of the universe was a safe place, perhaps the  _ only _ safe place, and coming home to it felt like coming back to life. 

He had two and a half weeks of down time before he had to get on that plane to Australia and take up the mantle of engineer again. Being the head (co-head Max would remind him) engineer for a Formula 1 racing team certainly had its perks - the apartment for instance - but the hours and the time spent traveling were definitely the downsides to the job.

He fed Marigold, showered and changed into sweatpants and an old air force t-shirt that he only wore when he was home. 

Only one side of the king bed was rumpled, left unmade. Ben’s pajamas had been left bunched up on the floor; soft, wrinkled mountains of flannel plaid. A half-empty glass of water stood next to a well-thumbed paperback and a pair of reading glasses on the night stand. 

Billy and Ben had reacted to the forced return to civilian life in completely opposite ways. Billy remained regimented - order and structure his way of making sense out of chaos. Ben, on the other hand, had embraced being the sort of person who was late to meetings and didn’t make his bed. 

Billy made the bed and folded his husband’s pajamas, laying them neatly on top of the duvet. 

He supposed, on some level, that their opposing natures should have bothered him - that their differences should have made them incompatible - but they were passed that now.  Theirs was a union born out of necessity and the mutual understanding of each other’s nightmares. 

They had built something safe together and it would take more than an unmade bed and some weeks without seeing each other to wreck it. They were more than a little unconventional but they had something safe.  

That realization had perhaps been the happiest of Billy’s life. 

He made his way back into the kitchen and pulled out the flour and butter to start work on a pie crust. Despite what most people thought of him Billy was actually an accomplished cook. Not that his quiche would win any awards but it was tasty and it made him happy to know that Ben was eating something other than microwave ready meals and takeaway. 

In his first weeks home, when he couldn’t sleep because closing his eyes meant dying and silence meant screaming that didn’t stop, Billy had sat up late and watched replays of races and re-runs of baking shows. He would curl up in the tiny, threadbare armchair in the living room of his shitty apartment, frozen in fear, and not move until the sun rose in the morning. He liked to joke that late night TV had been his only saving grace but it was true, in its way. Those long, painful nights had introduced Billy to a new passion and refined his cooking skills considerably. 

He put on some music as he worked, something upbeat and soft. Marigold, watching him carefully from her bed in the corner of the kitchen, thumped her tail against the floor along with the beat. 

Ben came home at 6. Marigold heard him before Billy did and got up to go sit by the door, sentry-like. 

Billy heard his key in the lock and felt the very last of his tension fall away. 

“Hey, Bills,” Ben called, the burr of his voice as familiar as Billy’s own. Billy heard the sound of keys being deposited in the bowl by the door “That you?” 

“No, it’s your other husband” Billy replied, setting down the bowl of quiche filling and peering around the doorway to watch his husband take off his coat. 

Ben wore his casual office wear with hard-won panache. Time was he had looked awkward in it, flailing about in his button-down with no idea how to tie a tie. But along with the gradual re-acclimation to civilian life came the gradual acceptance of the average work uniform. Something Billy for one quite appreciated. 

Ben wore his scruffy hair up in a bun at the nape of his neck, several strands having come loose to dangle roguishly in front of his startlingly blue eyes. He wore a sweater over his button-down in deference to the cold today - the blue cotton of his collar standing out against the gray of his sweater. He looked safe, he looked good, and Billy wondered, again, how he had gotten so lucky. 

Ben smiled when he saw him, standing on tiptoes to wrap his arms around Billy’s shoulders and hold him close. 

Ben smelled like safety and laundry soap and home and his body was undeniably real against Billy’s. Billy melted a little, lost in the quiet, listening to Ben breathe and feeling the beat of his heart against his chest. 

“You have flour on your cheek,” Ben said after a long moment, pulling back enough to swipe at it with his thumb. He kissed Billy gently, lips soft and familiar. 

“I’m making us a quiche,” Billy said by way of explanation, leaning a little into the heat of Ben’s touch. He had missed this. 

Ben laughed, the sound of it soft and calming “Of course you are. I bought us some nice wine. Let me go change and we can open it” 

Billy let him go, albeit reluctantly, and returned to the kitchen to put the quiche in the oven.

It was like stability had returned - like the ground beneath Billy’s feet which had for too long been shaky had stilled. It felt like he could stand with strength again. 

Ben returned in sweats and one of Billy’s sweatshirts. It hung off his frame, comically large, but the sight of it put something warm in Billy’s chest. 

Ben took the bottle of wine from the cabinet, pressing a short kiss to Billy’s spine as he reached around to get the bottle opener out of the drawer. The wine opened with a pop. Billy passed him two glasses and set the timer on the oven. They moved around each other in the small kitchen with familiar ease, quiet, movements practiced. 

Ben slid into one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, taking a sip of his wine, watching Billy put the dishes in the sink, expression fond and colored with something unnamable. 

“How was Spain?” he asked once Billy had joined him, his knee pressing warm and solid against Billy’s thigh. 

“Good. We got beat by Silver by 3 seconds or so and Max won’t let me live it down” 

Ben chuckled “Everything’s a competition darling” 

Billy pouted “That’s exactly what she said” He poured himself a glass and took a sip. It _was_ nice wine, Ben knew what he was talking about. 

“You know a lot of the guys at the VA know Silver. They’re excited to see him drive. I think I may have to host a watching party” 

“I didn’t know that. And you should” 

“Yeah,” Ben said “He sees the same prosthetist as Alex. They did PT together” 

“Small world,” Billy said, marveling at it.

“Quite small” Ben agreed. 

Ben was wearing his ring and Billy was distracted for a moment watching the overhead light play off the gold band. Billy had a matching one that he wore on a cord around his neck to keep his hands free. The last thing he wanted to do was lose the thing inside a car. 

They talked, leaning close, elbows touching on the countertop, catching up about Ben’s work at the VA, the many misadventures of what remained of their old squadron, the pub quiz Ben had gone to the other night with some friends and failed miserably at much to his embarrassment. 

“Sometimes I think I should either have gone to uni or that I should watch more daytime TV” Ben groused, pouring himself another glass of wine, feigning affront while Billy laughed at him. “I swear to god it’s all either stuff I would have learned in school or things I would know if I was up to date on pop culture. It makes me feel like an idiot”

“Well you’re my idiot,” Billy said, getting up to take the quiche out of the oven “Plus if you had gone to uni you would never have met me” 

They elected to ignore the other things that never would have happened if Ben hadn’t joined the army.

“The large man speaks truth,” Ben said, getting the plates and cutlery out “That smells heavenly” 

“Flatterer” 

“It’s my job to complement you. I don’t think they appreciate you enough at Nassau so I need to appreciate you while you’re here”

“I appreciate your appreciation,” Billy said, sliding a plate of quiche across the counter to his husband. 

He was arrested for a moment by the soft sparkle in Ben’s eyes, the gentle smile. He entertained a sudden, reckless, unwanted thought that he could simply quit his job in the interest of having this every night. 

He joined Ben at the island again with his own plate of food. Marigold, ever hopeful, came and curled up beneath his stool. 

They ate in comfortable silence, for the most part, Ben occasionally slipping pieces of ham to Marigold. 

“You’re teaching her bad behavior” Billy reprimanded without heat. 

“No, I’m not. Look at her. She’s being so polite and not begging at all. Plus she should get to be spoiled when she’s home too” 

Marigold shot Billy a look that seemed to say “ _ listen to him, he knows what is good for me. Ham, ham is what is good for me”.  _ Billy had to concede her point, rolling his eyes fondly. 

Ben was the reason he had Marigold in the first place. Ben had vouched for him to the psych team and had been the one to expedite the paperwork. They hadn’t even been dating at the time, had only known each other as survivors of the same trauma. Billy had been a little jealous of Ben’s seeming ability to get on with his life. Of course, he hadn’t known about the drugs at the time.

That was how their relationship had started really, Billy needed someone with him so he could sleep and Ben needed someone to help him detox. They had been each other's safety nets before either of them could even comprehend what _safe_ meant. 

That was all behind them now, eight years behind them, six of those eight years spent married. They had carved out a safe haven in the world for each other and with each other and life had, slowly, unexpectedly, became something they both wanted again. 

Which left them, comfortably full, warm, safe, and happy, curled together on the sofa after dinner. Ben had retrieved his book and reading glasses from the bedroom and was sitting curled against Billy’s side with his feet tucked up under him. Billy was doing calculations, running the data from James’ car against the ideal and trying to figure out how to make it better. He was barely paying attention, chewing on the end of his pen and relishing the heat of Ben’s shoulder against his arm, the weight of his head against his shoulder. The clock on the bookshelf ticked the seconds by with a hollow, comforting monotony. 

“What’s eating you?” Ben asked after a long while, closing his book “you’re thinking so hard I can see smoke” 

“Just work stuff,” Billy said, putting his notebook down on the coffee table and wrapping his arm around Ben’s shoulders. 

Ben hummed, leaning his head against Billy’s chest and looking up at him, eyebrows drawn together “what kind of work stuff?”

“Just worries. I don’t think the team is long for this world unless we can pull our shit together and I don’t know how we can with a budget this tight. I’m surprised the cars even run, to be honest with you. I’m surprised we even have cars” 

“You have two good drivers, you have a chance” 

“I know. Except our two good drivers seem to be unwilling to speak to each other or be in the same room for any length of time. James is behaving like a right tit and I just want to take him by the shoulders and shake him” 

“You’re not his babysitter, Bills. He’s a grown ass man” 

Billy sighed “He’s either going to kill himself or the rest of us if he carries on like this.” 

“I would be violently suicidal too - if I lost you” 

That gave Billy pause. 

“He’s in mourning” Ben continued “He can’t move past it. And I know” he held up a hand to silence Billy’s argument “I know that’s not an excuse. It’s one thing to self-destruct and quite another to destroy everyone else. Silver might be able to help him, Silver would know what moving on looks like”

“He won’t even look Silver in the eye. He sees him as a replacement like we - Nassau - are trying to forget what happened. This could quite probably be our last season and he doesn't even care enough to stop hating us for five minutes and drive. He doesn't care about anything.” 

“That will change,” Ben said sagely. 

“But what if -” Billy’s chest was getting tight suddenly. Marigold trotted over and rested her head on his thigh.

“If the team goes under someone else will hire you,” Ben said like he believed it. He gripped Billy’s hand tightly, his ring a grounding line of cold against Billy’s fingers. His expression was sincere. “You’re smart. You’re good at what you do. Someone else will hire you” 

Billy laughed, a high, panicked sound. Ben clutched his hand tighter. 

“I’m a gay war vet with PTSD and a service dog who needs to come with me everywhere. No one else will want me. There  _ is _ nowhere else for me besides Nassau.” 

“There’s always home,” Ben said, softly, running his thumb over the back of Billy’s hand “There’s always me. I will always want you” 

Silence. The panic faded, gone as fast as it came. 

“Okay” Billy said. 

To which Ben replied “Let’s go to bed”

…..

They went to bed. 

Billy had his head resting on Ben’s chest, curled around him like a comma to keep his legs from sticking off the mattress. Ben’s arms came around Billy’s shoulders, holding him close. 

“I love you, you know,” Ben said, kissing the top of Billy’s head. 

No matter how many times he had heard Ben say that it still caused Billy’s heart to seize up. 

“I love you too” 

Ben’s heartbeat was loud and strong and alive beneath Billy’s ear. He wanted to memorize that sound so that even when he was across the world he could remember it. He wanted to bottle up this moment and never leave it. 

“How did I get so lucky?” Billy asked the quiet room, long after Ben had fallen asleep. 

He had been with other men before Ben, had heard other people tell him they loved him, but no one had ever loved  _ all _ of him the way Ben did. Ben who never asked anything of him that Billy couldn’t give him. Ben who had seen Billy at his worst - sleepless for weeks, screaming from nightmares, paranoid that people were coming for him - and loved him anyway. 

Ben who had built this home with him.

This home that he didn’t get to come home to often enough. This home that he missed with a feeling like a hole in his chest whenever he was away. 

They did the best they could with what they had and that had to be enough. It was enough. 

Ben was his home, Billy realized, watching the way the strip of street light let in by the curtains gilded Ben’s cheek, the way his hair fanned out against the pillow. He was safe here. He was home

He didn’t ever want to leave. 


End file.
